


Hunk of Porcelain

by fanfictiongreenirises



Category: DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Whump, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Don't copy to another site, Dry Orgasm, Good Bro Jason Todd, Hopeful Ending, Kidnapping, Multi, Non-Consensual Touching, Rape, Tim Drake is Robin, mannequins, no beta we die like robins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29039070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictiongreenirises/pseuds/fanfictiongreenirises
Summary: Dick catches someone's eye when he and Tim are out shopping for Bruce's birthday present.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Original Male Character(s), Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Comments: 32
Kudos: 219
Collections: Gotham Square (Batfam Discord Fics)





	Hunk of Porcelain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AuroraKant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/gifts).



> A ~~bribe~~ gift for the lovely, amazing Aurora!!! I hope you enjoy <3<3<3
> 
>  **Please read the tags and warnings before reading the story.** This story is still perfectly readable if you want to skip the explicit stuff - there'll be a word underlined and in green that indicates the start of it. Click on it to be taken to the end of the scene.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own DC

This fanfiction is hosted on **Archive of Our Own** , where you can read it for **free**. If you’re reading this on a different website, it was posted there **without** the author’s consent.

Buying Bruce a birthday present so close to Valentine’s Day was a horror show every year. The malls were all jam-packed with people trying to the perfect gift for their significant other; watches were sold out every time Dick ventured into the store; being present when chocolate was newly shipped in was a death wish, and journals were out of the question with the rise of hipster culture.

Maybe he shouldn’t’ve made up with Bruce after their last fight, Dick mused as he shouldered past the swarms of shoppers. It would’ve given him a genuine reason to not give a decent present. But he knew himself – the guilt would’ve eaten away at him if he’d done that.

“What about a mug?” Tim suggested from beside him.

Tim was the only good thing about today, Dick reflected. Out loud, he said, “Nah, I’ve given him about fourteen mugs in the time I’ve known him. There’s only so much variety, y’know?”

“That’s like a mug every birthday.”

Dick shrugged. “A few birthdays, some Batman days, a few April Fools’…” _Some Father’s Days_ , he wanted to add. _But those were the earlier years_. Tim looked horrified at Dick’s gift giving abilities, so he hastily added, “I wasn’t _utterly_ hopeless all the time. I got him a cool watch one time, and then one year I think I got him a slime making kit…”

Bruce had enjoyed that kit, though. No matter how hard Tim stared at Dick.

“Maybe you should get him a tie,” Tim suggested. “It’s very safe. No way to hate a tie. You can even have it in cool patterns now. I think I saw a pineapple print in that store we just passed.”

Dick ruffled Tim’s hair. “Timbo, the aim is to _astonish_ B, not make him drop dead of boredom. We gotta get more creative.”

Tim suddenly halted in the middle of the street; the crowd went around him like water around a stone, albeit much ruder water with glaring eyes. “Is a stamp collection boring?”

Dick hadn’t foreseen this development. He wanted to kick himself. “Well, I know for a _fact_ that Bruce is gonna love it. He used to have a coin collection, and a pebble collection – don’t ask him about it unless you have a couple hours to spare – and even a _pocket watch_ collection. B might pretend he’s not a weird rich guy, but some part of him is.”

Maybe Dick should get Bruce a patterned vest. There was one in a windowfront that was entirely reflective. He could wear it to a meeting, blind investors, attract crows… Really, what more could one want?

Dick knew his real reason for finding it so difficult to get Bruce a present this year. This was the first birthday of Bruce’s after Dick had been adopted. He didn’t know how to go about it now – was he supposed to give him a funny, crack present, just like he always had? Would Bruce take offense to that, perhaps be disappointed by it? And – more pressingly – should Dick be looking into something that conveyed his feelings about their relationship?

“What’d you say you gave him for your first Father’s Day?” Dick asked absentmindedly, grabbing Tim by the hand and tugging him through a doorway.

The cool air conditioned interior greeted them, and Dick could sense feeling return to his fingers once more. He flexed them as they looked around. It was a clothing store, but seemed to be independently owned. There was a spiralling staircase that went up into a dark room, with a sign hanging at the foot of the stairs reading ‘STAFF ONLY’.

“A watch,” Tim murmured, looking around. “Does this place smell funny to you?”

Dick sniffed as inconspicuously as he could. “Maybe?” he offered. His nose hadn’t yet recovered from the freezing temperatures outside.

“I think this is the place Steph mentioned. Something about their clothing all being organically produced… they don’t even use plastic mannequins.”

“That’s right, we don’t!” an overly cheery voice informed them.

Dick and Tim whirled around; Dick hadn’t even heard the sales assistant approaching them. She wore a typical uniform – black formal pants, a striped red and white shirt. Her hair was done up perfectly in a bun, with not a stray strand in sight, and there was a badge pinned to her collar.

“Lily,” Dick read, giving her _his_ most cheerful smile. “Hello. So what do you use instead?”

Lily gestured to the other side of the store. “Come over and see,” she said.

They followed. Now that Dick was deeper inside, he could see what Tim meant – or rather, _smell_ what he had meant. There was something… strange about it, something familiar, but not that stiff scent of air freshener, industry level cleaning agent, and clothes straight out of containment. For the life of him, he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Hey, maybe that’s a good idea,” Tim murmured along the way, pointing out various little objects that they passed. His brow was furrowed at certain objects.

Dick tried to look at them with serious consideration, to try and parse out the perfect “first birthday where you’re my father!” present. Dick couldn’t afford the sort of clothes that Bruce wore on a regular basis, and he knew that Bruce wouldn’t expect something like that from him. Perhaps a coat pin? Should Dick convince Bruce to get some piercings, just so he could have the option of buying him jewellery?

Bracelets were nice, weren’t they? He’d gotten Roy and Garth bracelets plenty of times, not to mention Kory and Donna. Though he couldn’t look at necklaces without thinking of mobsters.

“Here we go!” Lily exclaimed, gesturing grandly towards the three mannequins that were displayed in front of a mirrored wall.

Dick _stared_. “They’re so…”

“Detailed,” Tim said. He moved closer. “Can I touch them?”

Lily nodded. “Of course! All clothing on them is available for purchase, but please ask either myself or another sales assistant to remove them from the mannequins if you want particular items.” The bell on the door jangled as another customer entered, and Lily excused herself from to receive them.

Tim lightly touched the mannequin. “What do you suppose they’re made from?” he murmured. “It… feels so weird. There’s even like tiny peach fuzz hair on their arms.”

“No two are alike, either,” Dick said, gazing upwards at the faces of each of the mannequins.

These could’ve been people he passed on the street. If he’d seen these dolls sat down on a park bench, he would’ve assumed they were real human people. The wigs were probably made from human hair, Dick guessed – he’d never seen the cheaper kind lay quite the way these did. They gazed straight ahead, eyes painted to perfection. Perhaps they were from an artist, someone who did work like this for a living.

Their bodies weren’t entirely perfect, not the a mannequin’s was. One doll had visible stretch marks in the crook of its elbows and around its armpits, and Dick assumed that if it were dressed in something revealing its knees, there would be marks behind them as well. It was nice, to be seeing realistic bodies – for one thing, it made it easier to buy clothing.

Tim nudged Dick. “How about there?” he asked, pointing to a glass cabinet positioned by the adjacent wall.

Dick was glad to be away from the dummies, though he felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck, like they were watching him. It was an array of seemingly random objects. There were little handkerchiefs, a shoe polishing kit, bookmarks, charm bracelets, lucky pebbles. Amongst them, nestled atop a tiny velvet cushion, sat an antique looking compass.

Dick knew this one would be the perfect present. He peered as close as he could get to it, trying to look for a price tag. His budget wasn’t _that_ low, but he couldn’t get a read on this store. How much could those mannequins possibly be, to be affordable to be out on display, with customers allowed to touch them? The items up for sale were of a varying level, ranging from high end fashion to streetwear. Dick had yet to see a single price tag on anything thus far.

He spotted another sales assistant, decked out in the same uniform, and waved him over.

“Could we take a look at that compass?”

“Certainly.” He looked about as old as Dick was, give or take a couple years. But there was something shifty in the way he moved, something almost rat-like, as though he were more used to scurrying in the shadows. He was looking Dick up and down, but not in any way that Dick was used to, even as Nightwing.

Dick shifted uncomfortably as the other man – his nametag read Jacob – stepped just a bit too close to him as he presented Dick and Tim with the compass. Tim stepped between the two of them, playing the eager younger brother flawlessly. Despite the relief in the back of Dick’s mind, he couldn’t help that sense of guilt that reared its head at the same time.

Then Dick focused on the compass. It was made beautifully – clearly handcrafted, with engravings etched into the metalwork of the casing.

“He’ll love it,” Tim said, voice pitched low enough for only Dick’s ears.

Dick glanced up, and saw in an instant that Jacob had been watching him this whole time. “How much is it?” he asked. There was still no price tag in sight, but the sooner they got through with this, the sooner they could be out of this creepy store.

“Do you wish to have a custom casing?” Jacob’s eyes weren’t fixed on Dick’s eyes; instead, they roamed around his face, over his body. There was no sign of lust, of desire, though; Dick found it equally confusing and disturbing.

“The engraving, you mean?” At Jacob’s nod, Dick hesitated. “How long will it take?”

“It depends on what you want.”

“How much for this exact compass?”

Jacob peered at it more closely, as though he hadn’t just plucked it out of the cabinet himself. “You can pick it up tomorrow,” he said.

Dick blinked. “Is this one not for sale?”

“Apart from certain pieces of clothing, there is one of every item on display in the store.” The words fell from his mouth like clockwork as he spoke, looking over Dick unblinking. “You didn’t need any clothes, did you?”

“No, we didn’t,” Tim said before Dick could respond. “And actually, we’re running a bit late now anyway.”

They had nowhere to be, but Dick nodded, glancing at his watch and widening his eyes. “Yeah, we really need to be going. Can I pay for this—”

“I will have it waiting for you first thing tomorrow,” Jacob cut in, smiling smoothly for the first time since he’d appeared.

Neither of them spoke as they exited the store, walking a few blocks before Tim let out an exhale, the tension leaving his body. Dick could relate: the farther he got from there, the lighter he felt, as though there’d been the stares of hundreds weighing him down the entire time they’d been browsing.

“That was… weird,” Tim said. “Was he hitting on you? Because if he was, he can’t be very successful.”

Dick shrugged uncomfortably. “Didn’t seem like it?” was all he had to offer. “But hey, at least we got the present issue out of the way.”

“Yeah,” Tim said, “but you’ll have to go _back_ there again.”

“And then I’ll never set foot in that store again,” Dick said decisively, and Tim let out a small laugh.

* * *

Dick wished they’d taken their time to look for the name of that store, because then he could look it up to see what time they’d open. It must’ve been new, because there was no mention of it on the store listings on the mall’s website.

But surely it would be open by now, Dick reasoned as he headed down the street. It was eight in the morning. Everything was open by then, especially on a weekday morning. The streets were still bustling with crowds, this time full of people rushing to get to work. Dick wished he’d grabbed a coffee from that café on the way over, but he could always get one on the way back.

The first thing Dick did before he entered the store was glance upwards to where the name should’ve been displayed. Instead, there was a wooden board – clearly, they hadn’t gotten around to fixing it up just yet.

Despite there being no ‘CLOSED’ sign hung on the door, the store looked as though no one had come in to open up in the morning. It was dark inside, the only light coming in through the one window that had its blinds half open. It painted the store with an eerie air, still and silent. The cabinets had sheets thrown over them, as did the racks of clothing.

Only two of the mannequins were uncovered. They had been stripped of all clothing and accessories, laid bare to the world. Dick didn’t mean to stare, but he couldn’t help it – he had never seen even sculptures that looked so lifelike, so uniquely detailed. The artist must’ve spent countless hours studying bodies to have pulled off something so remarkable; the question of value and cost flitted through Dick’s mind once again as he tore his gaze away from the still, unseeing gazes of the dolls, and their bare bodies.

The sound of a closing door startled him; had Dick not been so used to the unexpected, he might’ve jumped. Instead, he turned around to come face to face with Jacob.

“Good morning!” Jacob said, a wide grin on his face. His mannerisms were completely different now – maybe he’d just been tired the day before?

“Good morning,” Dick responded. “Am I here too early?”

“No, no, you’re right on time!” Jacob headed behind the covered counter and fiddled around with something in the depths of its drawers. “Here… we are…”

Dick peered over to look at how the compass had turned out, but there was no compass in Jacob’s hand. Instead, he held out what appeared to be a antique perfume bottle, complete with a pump spray.

The last thing Dick registered, before he was sprayed in the face with an odorless mist, was that the bottle had been a lovely purple, with gold engravings.

* * *

Dick was supposed to be here, Tim thought with another glance to his watch. He chewed on his lip anxiously, legs swinging against the wooden frame of the fence he was sat atop of. He checked the text again – no, Dick had _definitely_ told him he’d pick Tim up outside his school ten minutes ago. Dick was only ever late when he couldn’t help it, and he’d never been late to anything involving Tim Drake.

Tim blew out a breath and finally decided to call. Maybe he’d gotten held up at work.

The call went straight to voicemail, and Dick’s cheerful but harried voice told Tim to leave a voicemail and Dick would get back to him as soon as he could. Tim hung up, and tried again.

Should he start walking? It was Bruce’s birthday the next day, and Dick had been convinced to not only come to a small dinner, but to spend the weekend in Gotham as well.

Tim knew that Dick was nervous about it, this weekend being the first of Bruce’s birthdays that they were both in Gotham for, _and_ on good terms with one another. Not to mention the recent adoption.

After another fifteen minutes, Tim slipped off the fence and started walking. His fingers and toes had become mostly frozen in the time he’d spent waiting, and they were only now beginning to thaw. With nothing to do on the walk to the nearest town centre, where he’d be able to call an Uber to the Manor, there was nothing to occupy Tim’s mind but stray thoughts and gut-deep worries.

Had Dick forgotten about him? He hadn’t yet – there had been occasions where he’d been late to meeting up with Robin, but he’d never been late to anything with Tim Drake. He’d only known Dick – _really_ known Dick, not just as a stranger through a camera lens – for about a year and a half; maybe this was the beginning of the end.

He remembered the coldness of the Drake mansion when his parents had been away, watching the fence and fantasising about the life in the house across the grassy fields. Dick had lived up to everything Tim had imagined him being, and more. Surely, he deserved the benefit of the doubt, a chance to explain himself. It wasn’t enough to stifle the flames of fear entirely, but Tim could hold it in for now.

Running parallel to these were the worries of Robin who had, all too often, been faced with something far more malicious than a forgotten offer. Could Dick be in serious trouble now? Tim racked his mind, trying to think of the last time he’d spoken to Dick.

They’d bought Bruce’s present together on Tuesday, and it was now Friday. Nightwing didn’t make the news anymore, not like he had when he’d first begun appearing in Bludhaven. Barbara might know, but Tim didn’t want to alarm her if this all turned out to be nothing. He’d check the GPS in Dick’s suit when he got home, he decided.

Bruce was already home when Tim finally arrived, to Tim’s surprise. He hadn’t expected Bruce to be in for another hour or so – there was always some sort of meeting on Friday evenings, someone who wanted to discuss business over a drink.

“Who dropped you off?” he asked, with one last look at the bright blue vehicle that was now driving out.

Tim hesitated, then decided that Bruce had probably guessed by now. “Uh,” he said, wondering how to phrase this without implying that Dick had purposely left Tim stranded at school. “Uber.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed. “Tim,” he said. “You could’ve called me or Alfred to come and get you.”

Tim shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother you guys,” he said, steamrolling over Bruce when the other man opened his mouth to say something. “And I figured since I was in Gotham anyway, I might as well stop by that lolly shop and get you an early birthday present.”

He practically thrust the paper bag into Bruce’s hand, grateful to have stopped there while he was waiting for the Uber to arrive. Tim waited impatiently for Bruce to open it, mind only thinking about getting up to his laptop and accessing the Nightwing suit.

What if Dick was lying in a ditch, bleeding out while Bruce carefully undid the washi tape. Tim plastered a smile on his face when Bruce told him he had good taste in lollies, and grabbed a sour strap when Bruce held out the bag to him.

“I should go wash off school from the… body,” Tim said awkwardly, before hoofing it up the stairs.

His bag was flung to the floor beside his desk as Tim whipped open the lid of his laptop. Typing in a few quick lines to open up the closed network that would give him access to the Cave’s system, he toed off his shoes and threw off the scratchy vest of his school uniform, getting changed into comfier clothing.

Alfred would be expecting him in the kitchen for a snack soon, but Tim had about twenty minutes before he’d truly be missed, and that was plenty of time to see whether Dick was alright.

In the year or so that he’d been Robin, there’d been countless upgrades to their equipment, most of them by Harold, with the occasional that Bruce dabbled in. Their suits now had a monitor of sorts, which stated when it’d last been used – essentially, logging hours. It’d been a suggestion by Alfred, to monitor how long Bruce spent in the suit.

Dick’s said that he’d last worn the Nightwing suit between ten p.m on Tuesday night, and four a.m on Wednesday morning. Tim’s heart sped up, and with a few more clicks, he had access to the heat cameras in Dick’s apartment. He flicked through them, but it was pointless when he already knew that there was no one there.

Did that mean that Dick had been missing for almost three whole days, and no one had noticed? That had been a recurring nightmare of Tim’s, as a child. He felt his heart sink into his stomach at the thought that it may have become Dick’s reality.

* * *

When Dick came to, he couldn’t move his eyes. They were open, he knew, but he had no control over blinking, moving his irises, of water spilling from them. He was still and silent, and completely, utterly frozen in place.

He could feel hands touching his bare flesh, poking and prodding at him. He was breathing, but the oxygen came in so slowly, and so shallowly, that he didn’t think his chest had any cause to move – or at least, move in any way that was perceptible to the naked, passing eye. Was his heart still beating? Surely it was; or perhaps he had dropped dead the moment that fine mist had surrounded him, and this was some kind of limbo, a purgatory of sorts.

A hand was stroking his cheek. Dick’s body made no reaction, but his mind shied away from it with all the ferocity of a feral creature. It trailed down over his neck, tracing his veins with a light fingernail. Dick could feel it as it wandered, going wherever it pleased and taking no notice of the fact that there was a person trapped inside the doll it was admiring.

“The moment you entered the store…” That was Jacob’s voice! Dick would recognise that creep’s tone anywhere now – it had now firmly embedded itself into his mind, just like Harvey Dent’s, just like the Joker’s. “I knew you belonged here. A specimen as fine as you, going around the world gathering dirt and dust on your beautiful frame? What a waste.”

Dick was no stranger to unwelcome gazes. As Robin, Bruce had kept him well away from the more depraved of villains they had to deal with, but Robin hadn’t always worked with just Batman, and now, as Nightwing, in a city with a criminal population worse than Gotham’s, Dick had become as accustomed as he supposed he’d ever be to being touched and looked at and spoken about in ways that made his skin shrivel.

But gropes during a fight and dry humping through a skin-tight costume had nothing on this. Jacob positioned himself to stand directly in front of Dick, and now Dick couldn’t even look away or close his eyes. His mouth had been closed when he’d regain consciousness; now, Jacob opened it with calloused fingers.

Dick’s mouth wasn’t _dry_ – there was enough saliva in there for him to not be constantly thinking about how parched his throat was – but there was something in the knowledge that he couldn’t swallow that threatened to send him over the edge into panic. He couldn’t have that – he didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with a panic attack right now.

Could he even sleep? Did they come by at night and close each of the dolls’ eyes, to give them the illusion of darkness? Or was it no longer a necessity, in this strange state that they were in right now?

These thoughts were a way to distract himself from what Jacob was currently doing to him, trying to keep himself from registering the way Jacob’s fingers felt as they traced around Dick’s lips and the inside of his mouth, touching his teeth and tracing over his tongue. Dick could taste the saltiness of Jacob’s finger and feel the coarseness of it over the soft flesh of his inner cheeks. He wanted to gag, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even move his tongue away, let alone bite down.

Jacob moved closer, one of his legs between Dick’s, and though Dick couldn’t control his heartbeat or breathing, he began to panic.

Jacob smiled, that same creepy smile that had made Tim usher the two of them out the door the other day. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I always treat my dolls with the utmost respect. You’ll never find another touch quite like mine ever again. Not that anyone else is permitted to touch you so intimately ever again, of course.”

Dick tried desperately to move, to lash out, to do _something_ other than just stand there, staring straight ahead with his mouth now slightly parted. He could feel the saliva that had been spread over his lips cooling as it met the air in the room, and his mouth drying as a cold breeze entered through his open mouth, but he couldn’t close it. He couldn’t do anything.

Fingertips trailed down his bare chest, over his nipples and down the solid pack of muscles of his torso. They touched his ribs, soft and gentle just as Jacob had said. Dick had never felt more repulsed in his life, had never wanted to get _away_ more. He hated this, hated the way he couldn’t seem to escape into the recesses of his brain while Jacob pretended that he was a doll for him to play with.

To Dick’s horror, he could even feel his body begin to respond to the light touches it was being showered with. It’d been a while since he’d had sex, since he’d even had the time – or felt the need to – jerk off in the shower. He didn’t know if he blamed that on his body’s reaction to Jacob.

“There we go,” Jacob crooned. Dick wondered just how many people he’d done this with, that he could recognise the signs of arousal in their frozen bodies. “I used to have quite the bug collection as a child, you know. I had all sorts of butterflies framed all over my room. But really, it was the _spiders_ that drove my parents insane. Hated ‘em. Then one day, I came home from my boarding school to find my walls empty. All that hard work, all that time I’d spent catching the butterflies and the dragonflies and those spiders, and every colourful bug I could find on the forest floor… all gone, in an instant.”

Dick wished he’d just get on with it. He didn’t want to have the addition of Jacob’s voice in his ear, his musty breath brushing the crook of Dick’s neck. Normally, it was monologues like this where Dick would add in some snarky comeback, something funny and witty and sassy that, despite resulting in harsher punishments, made him feel the tiniest bit in control. He could say nothing now.

Jacob’s hands reached Dick’s hips, and all Dick could think was, _finally_. The sooner this bastard got off, the sooner he’d leave. Dick didn’t know what he’d do – what he _could_ do – to escape, but he would choose isolation in a heartbeat over _this_.

“So really, it’s because of them that I never went into botany, and chose to pursue a career as a businessman.”

There was the sound of a zipper, and Dick felt a jolt of fear go coursing through his body. What would this man do, he wondered. Would he bother with proper prep? He hadn’t had a chance to think about how pliable his body may be in this state, how flexible. Most of his unconscious movements were clearly still in place – he was breathing, his heart was beating. He didn’t doubt that he would bleed if he were wounded.

Dick wished he could close his eyes. He’d prefer to try and sink into the eternal blackness of his eyelids than to look forward at the sloping wall that he was tied up opposite of. His wrists were fastened to long, cylindrical poles, attached to a round base that was beneath his feet. There was another long pole running behind him, attached to the collar he had around his neck. That was all there was holding him upright – his body had somehow been immobilised in this position, not falling over or collapsing in a pile of limbs.

Something cold and wet slid into Dick, too thin to be Jacob’s cock, but unwelcome all the same. He would’ve jumped, tried to move away, if this had been any other situation. But there was nothing for him to do but stand there, hands ten centimetres outstretched and legs shoulder width apart, as Jacob opened him up with a single digit to begin with, and then slowly inserted in a second and third finger.

Dick didn’t know if he’d make a sound even if he could. In the silence of the room, he could hear the squelch of Jacob’s fingers as they worked their way into his hole. Was he supposed to feel grateful, that Jacob hadn’t just slammed his cock into him? Dick tried to move his fingers, any part of him – hell, even his _own_ cock twitching now would be a sign that at least he was regaining some mobility – but there was nothing.

Jacob was crooning things into his ear, telling him how utterly perfect he was, how beautiful he looked spread out, how none of the customers or other workers would ever know that he’d been fucked just moments ago. Would he make Dick wear something of his, to remind Dick of Jacob’s touch?

“Marking your flesh is out of the question, of course,” Jacob continued, breathing harder now. One of his hands came around Dick’s front, wrapping itself around Dick’s cock. It was cold from the lube that Jacob had no doubt spread all over it, sliding up and down smoothly. “Whatever happens to your body while you’re in this state stays like that unless you’re reverted. If you were mine, and mine to look at alone, there wouldn’t be a strip of skin that I would leave bare.”

Were his brain chemicals still functioning? There was no additional blood flow to his cock, Dick knew, because it was as flaccid as it’d been before Jacob had begun groping him. And yet, he could feel a tingling sensation, a feeling he associated with being about half-mast.

The fingers slid out of him and before Dick could brace himself, something replaced it in a single smooth movement. It was about the same thickness as the three fingers had been but pressing much, much deeper. Dick wanted to gasp at the intrusion, but his mouth didn’t work. Nothing worked, except the shockwaves rising through his body as Jacob’s hand worked on his cock and occasionally brushed his prostate with his rhythmic thrusts.

Dick felt some sort of a pressure building inside of himself, at complete odds with his resting heartrate and sweat-free skin. The other man was close, but holding himself back, for some reason. He could hear Jacob panting behind him, thrusting into Dick with reckless abandon. _So much for no marks_ , Dick thought distantly, feeling thick, slippery fingers digging into his hip.

And that was when Dick realised that Jacob meant for _Dick_ to come from this horrific endeavour as well. He wanted to laugh; surely there was no way he was going to be able to. But there was something about the surety with which Jacob was working at Dick that made him doubt his _own_ perception of his body.

There hadn’t been many people Dick had had sex with over the course of his rather short life, but he’d been with enough to know when they were close. He inwardly winced at the tightening fist around his cock, trying to ignore the part of him that desperately wanted to move his hips into the grip.

Dick came, silently and without any movement to indicate that he had, the second Jacob’s fingers moved up from his hip and traced lightly over his chest, making sure to flick his nipple on the way to Dick’s throat. The thick fingers wrapped loosely around his neck, before they tightened around him and partially blocked his airways. Dick’s vision seemed to short out, all the tingling pressure that he’d been feeling releasing in one fell swoop as he came dry.

He didn’t know if his limbs felt weaker or looser afterwards. All he could think about was the wet warmth of Jacob’s release inside of him, coating his insides in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to get out. There was no relief in it being over, though the thought of finally being alone was welcoming.

Jacob had sagged against him, skin sweaty and breath stale. Dick wanted nothing more than to shove this man off of him. A bell chimed downstairs, and that was when Jacob finally shifted his head up. Dick couldn’t see the expression on his face, and for that, he was glad.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you, little doll?” he said in a low, smiling voice. He sounded genuinely happy, Dick thought in disgust. “I could feel you, y’know. Fluttering around me so prettily. Never thought I’d see a pretty asshole, but there you have it.”

Hands, always hands, circling around in the wetness of the ejaculate and lube that was inside Dick. The overstimulation wasn’t painful yet, but it was a thin line. Dick tried to see if he could hold his breath, but to no avail.

A fabric, soft and thin and slightly damp, ran over his body, cleaning up all the disgusting wetness that Jacob had lavished him in. Dick could feel it running over his body, travelling to places where Jacob had not previously touched, lingering here and there as the other man’s probing eyes took in whatever he could of Dick’s body.

Surely he would be missed, Dick thought desperately. Surely someone had realised he was gone. He was supposed to show up for Bruce’s birthday – how long had he been out, how long had the procedure or drugs that had frozen him like this taken? He trusted Tim to find him, but for that, he needed the younger boy to be suspicious.

He stood there, pliant as he’d been since he’d awoken to this new horror, as Jacob dressed him up, combing his hair and placing a pair of sunglasses on his forehead.

“Can’t have those gorgeous eyes covered up, can we, now,” he murmured.

Dick looked forward, to the wood of the wall opposite him, and did his best to drown out his reality.

* * *

Bruce had promised to not retreat to the Batcave during the day over the weekend of his birthday. Alfred wouldn’t have even asked for this on his birthday the previous year, but this time, Bruce had been rather easy to convince. Dick was supposed to be coming home with Tim from school, staying in the Manor over the duration of the weekend.

But Tim had come home alone.

Two distinctly clear voices warred within Bruce: was Nightwing in trouble, or perhaps Bruce had unconsciously upset Dick somehow and now Dick no longer felt comfortable to visit. He Logically, Bruce knew which he preferred, but his mind nagged at him, replaying their last conversation.

He paced back and forth, resisting the urge to duck downstairs and bury himself in whatever case he could find. Gotham was quiet now, had been ever since they’d caught Calendar Man. There was something Bruce was working on as Matches, but it was nothing he could single-mindedly devote himself to right now.

Tim had disappeared upstairs to change out of his school clothes, but he’d probably be back soon. Maybe Bruce should wait in the kitchen; Alfred had always prepared the after school snacks in there.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said. His voice would never be surprised so obviously, but Bruce could tell he hadn’t expected to see him in there. “Those are for Master Tim, so please refrain from eating those.”

Bruce sighed and pulled his hand back. Instead, he grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl and unpeeled it.

“Has Master Dick gone upstairs to unpack?” Alfred asked with a frown, and that set off warning bells in Bruce’s mind.

Dick may be mad at Bruce for whatever reason, but there was no reason for him to cut contact with Alfred, unless it’d been for unforeseen events. Tim had acted as though Dick had texted or called him to cancel, but if Dick had done that, then he would’ve contacted Alfred, as well.

Now, the question was, should Bruce wait for another hour or so, or track down Dick right now?

“He didn’t come in with Tim,” Bruce said. His words had an unspoken question: was he permitted to breach his promise to Alfred, and head down to the Cave for its monitors?

Alfred hesitated. “Has Master Tim said anything?” he asked. Their lives had made them always assume the worst.

Bruce shook his head. “I’ll talk to him,” he said, heading upstairs.

When was the last time he’d even spoken to Dick? He could remember Oracle mentioning Nightwing just last week, and he’d called Dick to invite him over a few days before that. Dick had seemed fine – cheerful, even. It hadn’t seemed like something was wrong.

But Bruce knew all too well how quickly things could go sideways, how one simple patrol could result in fatal injuries that could fester. There was no one to check up on Dick, not on as regular a basis as Alfred did with Bruce.

Bruce found himself rapping his knuckles against Tim’s door, having worked himself up to the point where his palms were now clammy. _Breathe_ , he told himself firmly. It was far more likely that Dick had been held up at work and hadn’t been able to pick up Tim. There was really no reason to jump to conclusions. His job worked terrible hours, and Dick was the kind of person to take on everyone else’s hours when they called in sick.

“Uh,” Tim said from inside, voice a little high pitched. “I’ll be right down, Alfred!”

“Tim, it’s me,” Bruce said. He hesitated, wondering how he was going to phrase this. “Did Dick say when he was going to get here. Alfred wanted to get dinner going.” That last part was as blatant a cop-out as any, but Bruce couldn’t quite work out how to ask Tim without sounding too desperate.

There was silence on the other end of the door. It _had_ to be the latter – Tim clearly knew that Dick was upset with Bruce and that was why he was putting off getting here, but he didn’t know how to tell Bruce that. Tim wouldn’t be keeping quiet on matters of life or death.

The door swung open, and Tim stood on the other end, wearing his school shirt and shorts, with the tie loose around his neck. He was chewing his lip, looking at Bruce contemplatively.

“He never showed up,” Tim said in a low voice. “He’s _never_ late, and he’s never even cancelled on me when he said he was going to come pick me up. But today he just didn’t show. And I checked his suit – he hasn’t been out since Tuesday night.”

Blood was roaring through Bruce’s ears. He hated this, hated the constant fear, the not knowing. “Did you check his apartment?” he asked, walking inside to where Tim’s laptop sat on his desk, balanced atop a stack of what appeared to be old test papers.

“Yeah,” Tim said. “He isn’t there.”

Bruce exhaled slowly. “When did you last see him,” he said more than asked.

Tim hesitated. “Actually,” he said. “I think I might know where he is. But if it’s wrong, then—”

“You have good hunches, Tim,” Bruce told him. They jogged lightly to the garage – it was the middle of the day; there was no reason for Batman and Robin to be out now, though Bruce used the car that had a spare suit stored in a briefcase. “Don’t stifle your gut.”

* * *

Dick didn’t know if he wanted to see someone he knew. What would they do, if they saw a mannequin that looked _exactly_ like their schoolfriend in a shop? Probably take a photo and tag him in it, Dick thought bitterly. You didn’t go around expecting store dummies to be actual people.

He had been positioned towards the back, decked out in dark jeans, sneakers that cost about the same as a fortnight’s rent, and a polo shirt. The tag hanging from the pair of sunglasses positioned on Dick’s head dangled around his forehead; if he focused too long on it, he would probably go insane from not being able to scratch at it.

There had been a surprising amount of customers in the store – it hadn’t seemed like the kind of place that got many people, particularly not ones who racked up such high numbers in sales. Dick was glad he was in a somewhat plain outfit – no one came near him to touch the fabric of his pants, flick up the collar of his shirt to see how it’d look. Now that he was in their position, he could see the same emotion echoing in the faces of the other mannequins around him.

It was probably mid-afternoon when something finally happened.

Jason walked into the store.

Dick felt almost lightheaded with hope. He watched Jason for as long as he could, mind now razor-sharp with possibilities. But what could he even do? He had no power, nothing to draw Jason’s attention.

Jason wandered through the store. He was dressed plainly, with a baseball cap on over his dark hair, hiding the white streak that Dick knew was there. He peered into the cabinets, eyes occupied by whatever marvellous items were on sale as Dick screamed at him inwardly.

What was he even looking for, Dick wondered. Clothing? He couldn’t quite picture the Red Hood in a high end chain store, looking for T-shirts. He watched Jason for a little while longer. It was interesting, seeing how people acted when they weren’t aware that they were being watched by someone they knew. Jason’s face was less tense than Dick had seen it since he’d returned, he noted with some sadness.

And that was when Jason’s gaze turned to scan the rest of the store, and his eyes snagged on Dick and stayed.

If Dick had any control over his heart, he might’ve just died on the spot right there of pure relief.

There was a look of amusement on Jason’s face as he headed over towards where Dick had been stationed, eyes looking him up and down. Dick’s gaze reached to about Jason’s throat; he hadn’t been as acutely aware of how much taller Jason was compared to him than he was right now.

Jason whipped out his phone and took a photo of Dick as he approached, an amused glint in his eyes. Dick wished he could see who he was sending it to. He’d given Jason his number, but had Jason saved it? And was his phone somewhere in this building, where it could potentially be heard? He doubted Jacob would be so careless.

 _Don’t go_ , Dick begged. He tried to get across his face, his eyes, that he was in here, that he was no mannequin. He didn’t know how successful he was.

Jason’s eyes scanned Dick’s face, before landing on the sunglasses. He reached out and plucked them from Dick’s head, fingers brushing against Dick’s forehead as he did so. Dick felt it, the quickest of touches against his skin, fingertips rough.

Jason frowned, pausing midway. He slowly removed the glasses, and then, with another hand, he poked Dick’s skin. His eyes widened the moment his fingers sunk into Dick’s soft, human flesh, and he spun around Dick’s still form, displayed like a bug. Before Dick could even begin to wonder at what Jason was doing, he felt the side of the polo shirt lift a little, and an intake of breath.

 _Oh_ , Dick thought. _He’s checking my scars_. Would this be enough for Jason to grab his body and run?

Instead, Jason chewed on the inside of his cheek as he stood there, contemplating Dick. He tapped a few buttons on his phone, nowhere near as quick as Dick would like him to be, before putting it to his ear. Dick could hear it ringing, and felt as though the other person was being slow just to spite him.

“Master Jason,” a tinny voice said, and if Dick had thought that he had felt relief when Jason had come into the store, it had nothing on this. “How are you?”

“I’m great, Alfie,” Jason said distractedly, still eyeing Dick. “You know how I said I wasn’t sure about the dinner?”

There was a hum from the other end. “I do hope you’ve changed your mind and decided to come after all. We would love to have you. I’ve even begun baking.”

A hint of a smile tugged at Jason’s lips, and he looked away from Dick to scuff the floor with the toe of his shoe. “I can see you trying to bribe me, and I can tell you now it won’t work,” he said, but his voice was soft. “Hey, listen, have you heard from Dick lately?”

Alfred responded immediately. “Actually, I do believe he’s gone missing. He was supposed to pick up Tim from school today and he hasn’t appeared yet. If you do happen to see him—”

Jason broke in. “I gotta check something out,” he said. “I’ll call you back, Alf.”

With that, he hung up, and strode over to the counter. Dick wished he could hear what Jason was saying, but the speakers were right behind him, and though the music was soft, it was just loud enough to drown out Jason’s voice. They were just barely out of Dick’s sight – he was glad he had monopoly on the door, because the only thing currently keeping him sane was the fact that Jason _had_ to still be in the store.

“Everyone _out!”_

Most people inside were Gothamites, or accompanied by one. Perhaps they’d heard horror stories of the city’s environment. Whatever the reason, the moment Jason yelled out, they all fled, racing towards the doors with heads ducked, as though they expected their exit to be followed by a barrage of bullets.

Dick didn’t know how this was going to play out. He didn’t know how – or _why_ – Jason was so angry; he had no clue what this situation was going to escalate to. But deeper than that, there was a guilty relief at the thought of escaping and finally being free of this place.

Jason was in a heated debate with one of the sales assistants – perhaps Jacob, too, had fled the scene once he’d realised that someone had caught on. Foolish, really, to display Dick in a city he’d lived in for so long. Had he looked at the colour of Dick’s skin, thought that the chances of him being from around here, and from a family with any real power at that, were too slim to bother worrying over?

“—your boss here, before I start shooting!” Jason was saying.

“Sir, please, just give us a few minutes – he was right here!”

They didn’t know. Dick had already known that, but now, hearing Lily’s trembling voice as she tried desperately to call Jacob, he had confirmation. He hadn’t seen her all day – had she been kept away from where he was displayed, purely because she’d interacted with him that week? She would probably have forgotten his face another week in, with the amount of customers she dealt with on a regular basis.

Jason exchanged a few more words with her, and then she was leading him upstairs. Dick hoped he’d find something there to reverse this, because he would honestly rather just die than be preserved in this still form.

And that was when Dick spotted Tim and Bruce jogging up to the front entrance of the store.

* * *

The series of events that had followed Jason running up the stairs were ones he would probably never be able to forget, no matter how much he would probably want to. There’d been three doors on the upper floor, two of them open.

Jason had kicked in the third, and come face to face with a man in what appeared to be his late twenties, trousers open and around his thighs as he thrust into a completely bare mannequin. The sight of it had stopped Jason in his tracks for only the briefest of seconds – this really wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever caught someone doing – and he’d had a gun out before the other man could even pull out.

“Hands up,” Jason had shouted, “and step away from… just fucking step away.”

The man had complied instantly, face crumpling up into shock. Had he truly gotten away with this for so long, Jason had wondered in disgust.

“What’d you do to them?” Jason stepped closer. “Don’t think I won’t shoot you, because I will.”

“I only did what was best for them,” the man stammered. His hands were shaking where they were raised. “This way they’ll never get _old_ , never not be beautiful! My store is an _art gallery_.”

Jason had snorted. “Yeah, okay, Dorian Gray. Now how do you reverse it?” When the man hesitated, Jason aimed at the floor beside his feet and pulled the trigger. The man let out the shrillest of yelps and jumped in the opposite direction, almost knocking over the mannequin beside him. “I won’t miss the next one.”

He’d sprayed the mannequin that the man had been raping first, watching as, limb by limb, piece by piece, the doll started moving. She was tiny, shorter than Dick was, and she would’ve crumbled to the ground had it not been for the collar around her neck.

Jason had darted towards her before she could choke on it, holding her up by her bare waist as he quickly undid the screws holding the metal ring in place.

“Hey, you’re okay,” he’d tried to soothe. “Can you walk?” A shaky nod; he wondered just how long she’d been here that she could barely move. She had yet to utter a word. “Go downstairs. I’ll deal with this bastard.”

He’d left the man handcuffed to hell and back, knowing he needed to free Dick first before he could enact any sort of justice on him. That had been when Bruce and his replacement had arrived.

Jason now stood beside an ambulance, watching intently as the paramedics checked over each of the people who’d been held hostage in the store. There was a total of nineteen, each a varying range of mental health. Jason couldn’t look at the person who, according to the lovely sales assistant, had been there for about three years, the first of their mannequins.

Bruce had taken over from Jason to speak with the police officer, both of them knowing that Jason couldn’t be the one to make a statement. The kid was standing beside him, fidgeting, his eye constantly reaching past the crowds of emergency services to glance at Dick.

The only reason Jason was still here was because, right after he’d sprayed Dick with whatever that solution was, Dick had grabbed his sleeve and whispered, _stay_. So Jason stayed, because he knew what it was like to feel helpless, because he’d seen what had happened upstairs with the girl.

Something nudged Jason’s shoulder, and he turned to see Dick standing up. He was still wearing the clothes he’d been displayed in, and the shock blanket that had been wrapped around his shoulders was in a pile on the stretcher that the paramedics had gotten him to sit on.

“Think they’re done with me,” Dick said, with a small, and very fake, smile.

Jason nodded slowly, unsure of how to proceed now. “You wanna head off?” Dick nodded, and then glanced to the side towards Bruce and Tim. “Manor, or your place?”

Dick chewed on his lip. Jason had no idea what he was thinking – Alfred had mentioned to him that Dick was going to be staying over at the Manor; did Dick prefer to go there, or prefer to head back to his own place, a space he probably felt more control in?

“Look,” Jason said in a low voice. “You just had like the worst few days. Choose wherever the fuck you _really_ wanna go—”

“My place,” Dick said in a rush, eyes flickering up towards Jason and darting away, never staying in one spot for too long. “Just…”

Jason waited for him to continue. When there was nothing, he said, “Yeah?” but Dick shook his head and headed over towards where Jason had parked his bike. “Here, put this on. I’ll go talk to them so they don’t think you’ve vanished again.”

“Don’t,” Dick said. “I’ll go. They’ll want an explanation.”

“Which you don’t owe anyone.”

The corners of Dick’s mouth turned up. “It’s B, Jason. You know how he gets,” he said.

Jason… could only recall the haziest of memories about Bruce and overprotectiveness. But yes, the Bruce who had followed him to another continent would probably want to at least see that Dick was alright.

Jason looked at him for a moment before shaking his head a little and swinging his leg over the vehicle. He contemplated tying Dick to him with a belt or something, but the arms that gripped him around the waist seemed solid enough. He’d just go slow – traffic would be on their side at this hour, and the police had blocked off the whole street.

They were about halfway through the city when Dick thumped Jason on the back, and Jason jerked to a stop by the side of the road. Dick staggered off the bike; Jason had never seen him so ungraceful, and though he would never admit it even to himself, the thought of the infallible Dick Grayson, the Robin he’d envied so much, being reduced to just _human being_ , scared him.

By the time Jason had dismounted, Dick had emptied out the few bits of food that remained in his stomach, and was dry heaving. Jason rummaged through the compartments in his bike and got out a mostly empty water bottle.

The smell that arose from the vomit was… strange. Jason resisted the urge to cover his nose with his arm, glancing at the small mess in front of Dick. It looked a lot like… rotten food, in chewed up bits. There were clumps of what appeared to be a granola bar in small pieces, and half mashed bits of banana.

Jason stared at it. Had this food just been _left_ inside Dick’s stomach, frozen in the state it’d been when he’d been turned into a mannequin?

“Dick,” he cleared his throat, and offered Dick the water bottle to rinse his mouth out with, “I think you should get checked out. _Properly_. That shit looks…”

“Gross?” Dick let out a humourless laugh. “I’ll see Bruce in a few hours anyway, Jay. Come on.”

“How about my place?” The offer slipped out of Jason’s mouth before it had even registered in his mind. Dick blinked at him. “One of my safehouses is right around the corner. It’s got a shower, change of clothes, food, a working TV. Bludhaven’s like another half hour away.”

“Okay,” Dick said, sliding the helmet back on his head and walking over to Jason’s bike.

Jason hadn’t expected Dick to agree so readily, but he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He started up the engine once again, hand going into his pocket to decline the call when his phone buzzed against his leg.

* * *

The safehouse looked like it was well lived in. There were books lying around on the coffee tables, a glass of water sat on the kitchen bench, and the shower had a damp towel hanging over the door. Real houseplants were stationed on windowsills, and there was what appeared to be seasonal flower plants on the fire escape.

Dick preferred it, if he were honest. Between the Manor and his apartment, Bludhaven had seemed like the lesser of two evils. He longed for his own bed, though he wasn’t sure which bed that may be. He just wanted to sleep somewhere, lose himself for a little bit.

But he wouldn’t be able to do that without first scrubbing off any physical remnants of the past week. His stomach was utterly empty, constantly cramping, but he had started gagging the last time he’d thought of food. Better to wait and see if his body would settle.

Dick stripped off the display clothes and kicked them into the bathtub, unable to look at them any longer. Their smell – the same as that cologne Jacob had worn – made his stomach turn; wearing Jason’s spare helmet had been a relief. He couldn’t come to terms with the waste of burning them, or binning them, but Jason knew a lot of people. Maybe he’d donate them.

Jacob had left just enough of his fluids inside Dick that they wouldn’t leak out and create a mess on the jeans. He reached around behind him, fingers sliding in easily as he removed as much of the come and lube out of himself as he could reach. He would need to go see Leslie, or conduct his own test. Maybe a clinic in Bludhaven, where he barely knew anyone, would be better.

His call with Bruce had only really left him feeling guilty, for ruining the other man’s birthday so badly. It wasn’t his fault, he knew that on a logical level, but there was a pit of shame in his stomach nonetheless. He was glad the compass was nowhere to be found on his personal effects that the police had retrieved from what was now a crime scene. He didn’t know how he’d feel seeing Bruce using it.

His body felt separate from himself, which wasn’t an entirely foreign concept. Dick had had dissociative episodes before, though this one probably took the cake. He stood there, water pouring over him until it went cold to _freezing_ , and then mechanically turned off the shower and dried himself. Jason had left a set of clothes for him by the tub.

The faintest of bruises stood clear on his hip. The fingers weren’t visible unless you knew what you were looking for, but Dick could feel every imprint as he stared at it in the mirror. Bruce had made him promise to come to the Cave tomorrow at the latest to undergo a thorough check-up, to which he’d reluctantly agreed to.

There was only one bedroom, but the bed looked newly made when Dick came out of the shower. He didn’t want to be presumptuous, but it was the afternoon. There was no way Jason would be sleeping now, and he’d been the one to offer his safehouse. Dick could hear sounds coming from the kitchen, and had no desire to be offered food.

He slid into the bed, sinking into the surprisingly soft mattress and pulling the sheets past his head. The last thing he registered before he was hurtled into sleep was the horror of this all having been a dream, and waking up back in the shop.

Dick awoke to the sound of voices. Jason was arguing with someone. He pushed himself out of bed, and had to catch the side-table when his legs wouldn’t hold him. Black spots littered his vision as Dick blinked, trying to wait out the dizziness that had momentarily taken hold.

When he could finally see straight, he slowly stood back up and headed out into the kitchen-living-room-dining-room hybrid. Jason stood with one hand braced on the kitchen countertop, a deep furrow in his forehead.

“What’s going on?” Dick asked, tilting his head to the side. His body felt cold all over, as though it’d forgotten how to thermoregulate. “Everything okay?”

His mind felt wrung out as it registered that it was almost eight. He was supposed to have been over for Bruce’s dinner half an hour ago – and now he’d probably stopped Jason from being there as well. His head was a dark haze through which it was impossible to dig through and parse together facts.

“Hold on a sec,” Jason said into the phone.

“You should’ve woken me in time to leave,” Dick murmured, no force behind the words as he walked to the sink to fill a glass with water. He didn’t drink it, instead holding it in his palm and staring at its contents.

“You were _out_. I could hear you snoring from all the way over here,” Jason told him. “That was the kid on the phone—”

“Tim?” Dick turned around. “Argh, I need to apologise to him. I can’t believe I left him there hanging—”

“Are you kidding?” Jason said incredulously. “You were fucking _kidnapped_. That’s in no way your fault.”

“You don’t get it with Tim,” Dick said tiredly.

“What I get is that the midget’s gonna deck you if you say sorry,” Jason told him. “But anyway, he said they’re on their way to bring over food.”

Dick frowned. “’They’?” he said. “Who’s ‘they’?”

Jason waved a hand. “Don’t worry, I talked them out of ambushing you like the original plan. It’s only going to be Alfred and the kid and Bruce.”

“But it’s Bruce’s party! He can’t ditch his own party.”

“Look, if you don’t want to see him, I’ll call and tell Alfred and he won’t come. But,” Jason paused, and looked at Dick, hesitating before continuing, “you _do_ need to get checked out. We have no idea what the shit did to you or its effects.”

“No, I know,” Dick said, running a hand over his face. “Just didn’t want B’s birthday plans to go so south.”

Instead of responding, Jason shoved a packet of plain crackers towards him. “Eat,” he said. “I don’t want anyone to think I’ve been starving you.”

Dick took one and started chewing. It tasted like sawdust in his mouth, but he swallowed it down with a mouthful of water and felt the slightest bit better.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! This is my first time writing anything explicit, so I hope it wasn't too bad.
> 
> This is also [cross posted to Tumblr ^~^](https://fanfictiongreenirises.tumblr.com/post/641549940630421504/hunk-of-porcelain-summary-dick-catches-someones)


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